The Best Revenge, Part 2
by pungster
Summary: Leo and Jordan's Christmas dinner-date, and what happened afterward.


The Best Revenge, Part 2 by Pung   
  
All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin.   
  
December 24th, 7:00pm  
  
He helped her on with her wrap and they walked down the steps to the street. She couldn't help looking over her shoulder and checking out the windows in Hanna's house for a sign of surveilence, but she saw nothing. He opened the car door for her. "You're driving?" she said, surprised.   
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I just assumed your man..."  
  
"Oh, Yeah-that would have gone over really good." He said laughing, "'Eddie, you wouldn't mind giving up Christmas Eve with your family so you can drive me on a dinner-date, would you?' Are you nuts? 'Guy wears a side-arm. Get in."  
  
He got in behind the wheel of the town car and helped her buckle in. After he started the car, he popped the console lid and pulled out a leather c.d. case, and tossed it in her lap. "Here, you pick something." She flipped through the c.d.'s, surprised at the range of his musical interests. Classical, Jazz, Swing, even some Rock and Roll. She picked out Sarah Vaughn and he loaded it into the player. "A foggy night...in old London town.."   
  
"Nice choice." he said, as he pulled out on the parkway.  
  
"She's amazing." Jordan replied.  
  
"Yes, she was." They listened to the music in silence. Christmas lights twinkled in the dark night, and a fine snow was falling. She was about to say something when his cell phone began to ring. "Dammit." he said under his breath, as he dug it out of his topcoat. He looked at the caller i.d. and grimaced. "Wonderful.." he said, "This is just great...Good EVENING, Sir."   
  
Jordan mouthed, "The President?" and Leo nodded as he listened. "Uh-oh," she thought, " my dates about to go south."  
  
"Yes, Sir, what can I do for you? No, I'm not surprised, Sir. Yes, it is a lovely night. Excuse me, Sir-but that's really none of your...an order...well in that case." He turned to Jordan. "The President would like to know what you're wearing."  
  
"Spandex." she said, letting him know she had heard him in court. He smiled sheepishly at her.  
  
"Sackcloth and ashes. Sir, will there be anything else? Well, thank you, Sir, I will most certainly consider your advice. May I go off duty now, sir? Josh has the Watch. Thank You, Sir. Merry Christmas to you, to." He clicked off the cell phone, and after looking at it a moment, shut it off.   
  
"What advice did he give you?"  
  
"He suggests we order the saffron chicken."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's a private joke of his."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"The President's humor is a little..."  
  
"Wonky?"  
  
"That's putting it mildly."   
  
"But you love him."  
  
"I do. He's the best soul I ever met."   
  
"He put you behind the eight-ball pretty good there, Sparky."   
  
"My choice, Councillor."   
  
"Did he really leave you much of a choice, Leo?"  
  
"This dinner isn't costing me $650.00 an hour, is it?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"Then let's take the night off, shall we?"   
  
"Alright." she said,"just one more thing."   
  
"Jordan..."  
  
"It's not about the hearing, it's about you and me."   
  
"What?" he said, shortly.   
  
She took a deep breath. "Leo, did Bob Whitman offer to represent you?" He looked at her, surprised.   
  
"What brings that up?"   
  
"Did he?"   
  
"Yes, my former law partner and your former boss offered to represent me. What of it?"   
  
"Before or after you hired me?"   
  
"Before...and after."  
  
"I thought as much."   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he called me. After."  
  
"You've got to be kidding..."  
  
"I'm not."   
  
Leo shook his head. "That slimey...Jordan-you don't think I asked him..."   
  
"No. I don't. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions."   
  
"So, what did he want?"   
  
"To congratulate me for 'landing' such a high-profile client, and to offer his assistance."   
  
"I hope you told him to stuff a sock in it..."   
  
"Not in those words. I thanked him for his good wishes, and assured him that my office could handle it."   
  
"Good Girl."   
  
"Thanks, Daddy."   
  
He glanced at her. "Look I didn't mean that in a ..."   
  
"Sexist, oink-y sort of way?"   
  
"Well, yeah."   
  
"I know." She replied. "Leo, I remember the day you came into my office and told me you were going to be leaving the firm to go into politics. You were a shoe-in as Labor Secretary. But you made it clear-in no uncertain terms-that my chances of advancement with the firm would be heading out the door with you. Your reference helped me get in at the United Nations Council's Office, and I never thanked you for it."   
  
"Well, you got yourself in, and Bob Whitman was-and is-a short-sighted sexist jerk."   
  
"No argument from me. But I might have wasted a lot of time there before I realized that the boys weren't going to let me into the tree house."   
  
"The tree house wasn't all it was cracked up to be, Jordan."   
  
"Still..."   
  
"Still." They were silent a moment. Sarah sang "Embraceable You."   
  
"This is our exit." he said finally, and pulled off the interstate. They followed a secondary road to a private drive. Through a grove of trees there emerged a simple country inn, with a sign that read. "Esterton Inn" Leo pulled into a parking spot by the restaurant entrance, got out, and opened her door.   
  
She was pleasantly surprised to find a large homey dining room that was oddly formal. The owner greeted Leo with a handshake, and it was obvious that he was a frequent visitor. They were seated almost immediately, at a table placed in a niche out of view of the rest of the room. The windows next to their table afforded a lovely view of the trees beyond, light with so many lights that they seemed to shimmer.   
  
"Leo, this is enchanting, and that's not a word I use very often."   
  
"It is nice, isn't it?"   
  
"How did you find it?"   
  
"I stumbled on it one night when I was driving back from New Hampshire during the campaign. I stopped for a bite, and just fell in love with the place. The chef is a wonder."   
  
"I can't wait."   
  
The wine steward approached them. "Good evening, Mr. McGarry."   
  
"Good Evening, Paul-Merry Christmas."   
  
"And to you and the lady, sir."   
  
"That's no lady, Paul, that is my attorney."   
  
"Ah..." the steward replied. "Would you care to look at the wine list?"   
  
Leo turned to Jordan. "Do you know anything about wine?"   
  
"Only how to drink it without dribbling down my chin."   
  
He grinned. "May I chose something for you?"   
  
"Please."   
  
Leo put on his glasses and surveyed the list. He questioned the steward about several selections before settling on one. "And I'll have a club soda with lime, Please."   
  
"Very good, Sir."   
  
He turned toward Jordan. "Before you ask-no I don't mind if you have a glass of wine, or two or three for that matter. Or something else if you prefer."   
  
"It doesn't bother you?"   
  
"Not anymore."   
  
Their waiter arrived with menus and Jordan was amused that hers did not list the prices. "I didn't know they did this anymore."   
  
"Did what?" "Provide girlie menus that keep us in the dark about the price of things."   
  
"Oh, well. Some traditions die hard."   
  
"Even when you beat them with a stick. Everything looks so good. What do you recommend?"   
  
"Would you think it oink-y of me if I ordered for us both?"   
  
"Not at all."   
  
He looked at her with mock distrust. "You're not a vegan, are you?"   
  
"No. I love vegetables...right next to my MEAT."   
  
When the waiter returned, Leo carefully chose their meal. Within a few minutes the appetizer arrived, and for the next hour they were served one course after another, each more succulent than the one before. The conversation matched the meal as they caught up on the last ten years. Leo regaled her with funny stories about the White House staff, and by the time the coffee arrived she was barely able to control her laughter.   
  
"He set the White House on FIRE?"   
  
"Well, nearly. Close enough that I could use it as a wedge."   
  
"For what?"   
  
"An uncomfortable chore he would have otherwise refused to do."   
  
"Which was..."   
  
"I insulted Karen Kahill's shoes. Josh went and apologized for me. Or actually, he got Sam to do it. Then it turned into a big mess."   
  
"How?"   
  
"Believe me, you don't want to know. Dessert?"   
  
"Lord, no. I'm barely fitting into this dress as it is."  
  
He leaned in and said softly. "It fits just fine from my perspective."   
  
She blushed. "Charmer." He sat back, grinning, and looked down. "Nice shoes."   
  
"Those are all mine. The dress is borrowed plumage." She felt suddenly shy, and tried to change the subject. "Leo, that was a wonderful meal."   
  
"I told you the chef was a magician."   
  
"Yes, but you put all the elements together. They complimented each other perfectly."   
  
"Well, I like to eat good food, well prepared."   
  
"The best revenge..." she quoted.   
  
"What's that?" he said, puzzled.   
  
"Living well...you seem to have the knack for it, when you finally let yourself."   
  
Leo gestured to the waiter and a moment later he was at his side. "Jack, do they have those great crescent cookies tonight?"   
  
"Yes, Mr. McGarry, shall I bring some?"   
  
"No, just pack up a couple of dozen and add it to the bill. We're ready."   
  
"Very Good, Sir."   
  
"Mallory loves those cookies." Leo said, reaching in his jacket for his wallet.  
  
"Will you be with her tomorrow?"   
  
"She's in Chicago with her mother and her family. I'm flying in to have dinner with her late tomorrow."   
  
"What about the rest of the day?"   
  
"I go to mass with the first family, and then have brunch in the Residence. After that, I have some work to do until my flight. You?"   
  
"I'll have dinner with my friend Hannah's family."   
  
"Hmm." He smiled down into his coffee cup. "This wouldn't be the friend who was peeking out at me from next door, would it?"   
  
"Oh, dear! Hannah has an old married woman's twisted interest in my social life."   
  
"Is that her dress?"   
  
"Yup."   
  
"Well," he whispered, "Don't give it back." Leo settled the bill, and they got on their way. He picked up the c.d. case and found the one he wanted. It was a compilation of Christmas songs, some she had never heard before. "Mal made this for me last year." he said, "All my favorites." They listened in silence, and then she was surprised to hear the Chipmunks song, 'Christmastime is here'. She looked at him puzzled, and he laughed. "Mal put that in as a joke. We have a tradition since she was a baby...we dance to this every Christmas Day." He advanced the cd to the next track, Harry Belafonte's 'Mary's Boychild'."   
  
"Will you be dancing with her tomorrow?"   
  
"Nah. I don't think that would sit too well with the Palmer House. When she comes home, we'll catch up."   
  
"How is it with the two of you?"   
  
"It's fine, most of the time. We talk thru the week, and we have a standing date for dinner every other Sunday. What about your family? You haven't mentioned them."   
  
"There's just my two brothers left. One's an attorney in San Francisco, the other's a performance artist in Quebec."   
  
"What kind of performance art does he do?"   
  
"Mostly shivering in the cold. We're not very close. I sometimes wish..." She trailed off.   
  
"I know what that's like." he replied, "I think I had to be too much of a father to my two sisters when we were growing up. I never quite kicked the habit."   
  
"Relationships are a bitch." she said in the dark.   
  
"Amen to that."  
  
They were silent after that, listening to the music. Jordan puzzled over what to do next. It was late, but she wasn't ready for the evening to end. She couldn't help wondering if Leo's thoughts ran along a common track. He was looking straight ahead at the road, and there was no reading his face. Finally he pulled up in front of her house, and put the car in park.   
  
He turned and looked at her. Well.." he said.   
  
"Would you like to come in for a drink?" she blurted out, and then blushed with mortification at her gaff. He looked at her, and then burst into deep-throated laughter-not at her, but at the implication of her statement. "Leo, I'm so sorry..."   
  
"No." he said, still laughing.   
  
"Such a STUPID thing to say..."   
  
"Jordan," he said, finally calming down. "It's alright, really. I would like to come in. A cup of de-caf would hit the spot."   
  
He tossed his topcoat and scarf over the stair rail and followed into her kitchen. "I'm afraid I just have plain old de-caf." she said. "Nothing special. But I have some cookies that Hannah's daughter made. They won't rival those crescent cookies, but..."   
  
"Sounds, great. I'll make the coffee. Where's your spice rack?"   
  
"Spice rack? Why?"   
  
"There's this thing I do with coffee."   
  
"Well, I don't have a spice rack, I have SPICES. Bottom shelf in the cabinet in front of you."   
  
He shucked off his suit coat and hung it over one of the tall stools at the breakfast bar. She set out the cookies and the cups and saucers, all the while watching him as he looked thru the spices, and added them to the coffee grinder. There was something incredibly sexy about a man wearing suspenders. The criss-crossed straps accentuated the muscles in his back and shoulders. "Come back to earth, Jordan..." she mumbled as she searched the refrigerator for the half and half.   
  
"What?" he said behind her.   
  
She straightened up and faced him. "Oh, nothing."   
  
"This will only take a minute." He said, as he switched on the coffee maker. "I hope you like it. Got any raw sugar?"   
  
"Raw sugar? sorry."   
  
"That's o.k. Brown sugar will do." She found it, and he filled her sugar bowl. "This is an old recipe I got from a friend of mine." The kitchen began to fill with the delightful aroma of coffee and spices.   
  
"It smells wonderful. Who was your friend?"   
  
He grinned, sheepishly. "My A.A. sponsor. We drunks are always looking for something good to drink that isn't booze. Sit." He served up the coffee when it was done, and held up his mug in a toast.   
  
"To the Best Revenge."   
  
"Amen to that." she said, smiling. They sat at the breakfast bar, talking. She tried to follow the conversation, but when she saw him absently licking powdered sugar off his fingers, her mind went blank and she nodded absently as if she knew what he was talking about. His voice was lower than before, as if his words could close them into some private world. Then, without warning, he stopped, and looked down at his hands.   
  
"Leo," she said, putting down her cup, "is something wrong?"   
  
Still looking down, he said, "No. Nothing's wrong. It's just..." Without warning, his hand came up to touch her face, and he looked at her.   
  
"I could drowned in your eyes," some old song had said, and until this moment she had thought the lyric was foolish. But now, captured in his gaze, she was still, and lost. His hand moved across her check, his thumb stroked her.   
  
"It this alright?" he asked softly. She couldn't answer in words, but her own hand reached up to cover his, and she pressed his palm to her lips. He took her face in his hands, and made her look at him. "Jordan..." he whispered, and kissed her.  
  
A first kiss is a journey into unknown territory. His lips were tentative at first, then they began to explore hers. His hands left her face, and his arms went around her waist.He gently pulled her to her feet. Her arms went up around his shoulders, and she found herself slipping her hands beneath his suspenders to caress his back.   
  
He read her encouragement, and his lips became more insistent, cajoling her mouth open. She took him in, tasting of cinnamon and anise. His hand slipped up and cradled the back of her neck-holding her to his kiss-as if she had the will in her to escape this moment. Instead, her hands responded in kind, stroking his hair. His arms became like steel around her as his mouth wandered to her neck. Her breath sounding in his ear spurred him on and one hand slipped down over her bottom to find the hem of her skirt. His hand slipped up the back of her thigh.   
  
Suddenly, unwillingly, Jordan came back to earth. She pressed her hands against his chest, and he reacted immediately, his hands retreating, but not letting her go.   
  
"I'm sorry." he whispered out of breath.   
  
"Don't be. It's alright, just whoa..."   
  
"Yeah..." They stood there a minute, their foreheads together, their breaths mingling.   
  
"It's been a long time for me." he said finally.   
  
"I know...for me to." she replied.   
  
"I'm not exactly sure...what happens next."   
  
"What happens next," she said, "is that I remember how late it is-and that I represent you in a very important hearing. And as pleasant a diversion as this might be..."   
  
He lifted his head and looked at her. "You're not just a diversion to me."   
  
She smiled at him. "Thank you for that...but just the same, I worry that I wouldn't do as good a job for you if we were lovers. You taught me about keeping my perspective, remember?"   
  
"Yeah," he said ruefully, "and that lesson just came back and bit me in the ass."   
  
They both laughed, and moved apart from each other. He looked at her as he put his coat back on. "You're right," he said, "as long as I can hope for better days. Walk me to the door?"   
  
She helped him with his coat, and he stood in the foyer digging for his keys. "So, can I kiss you good night?"   
  
"I think we've done enough kissing for one night, don't you?"   
  
"Objection sustained." he said, grinning at her. "Looks like a long cold shower for me."   
  
"Me, to."   
  
"Hey, maybe we could conserve water and..."   
  
"Go HOME, Leo!" she said laughing. She stood at the door, watching him maneuver the icy steps. "Leo," she said abruptly, "let me say one thing about the hearing."   
  
He stopped at the bottom of the steps, but it was a moment before he turned to face her. "Yes?"   
  
"As much as I admire and respect your feelings about the President, you have to understand one thing."   
  
"Which is what?"   
  
"I don't represent the President. And I can't be an affective advocate to a client who's loyalty to someone else supersedes his own self-interest."   
  
He looked down at the car keys in his hand and sighed. When he looked back up at her, she was startled by the change in his face. Gone was the man she had spent the evening with. His eyes were ancient, and she was suddenly afraid for him.   
  
"You know, you're right" he said. "It's late. We'll talk on Wednesday. Merry Christmas, Jordan."   
  
"Merry Christmas, Leo." He turned and walked toward his car. She stood watching him go. Her grip on the doorknob was the only thing that kept her from calling him back. At that moment, she would have done anything necessary to remove that look from his eyes, and hear him laugh again. But she let him go, because she knew that it would have been a temporary fix. What he really needed now, was the attorney he had made of her years before.   
  
Jordan sat cross-legged on her empty bed until two am, reading, writing, & advocating. 


End file.
